


business as usual

by RenderedReversed



Series: this ain't no fairytale [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bargaining, Item Shop AU, M/M, Recettear AU, Worldbuilding, adventurer!Tom, best read in series order, sorcerer!shopkeeper!Harry, with a little fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 08:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9377384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenderedReversed/pseuds/RenderedReversed
Summary: Tom has something Harry wants.In which Tom reaps a profit, Harry is swindled (then promptly swindles someone else), and somewhere, Albus Dumbledore is probably freaking out becausewho in their right mindwould call Tom Riddle a "sweetheart"?(Harry bloody Potter, that's who.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Small blurb about the differences between this AU and Recettear (skip if you want):**
> 
> Recettear's mechanics are pretty simple. In this chapter, we get a lot of information about adventurers that is not applicable to the game. 
> 
> In Recettear, you unlock adventurers to go into dungeons with (paying them a certain fee per each dungeon run), and you can equip them with better weapons/armor. Inside the dungeon, you control the adventurer and use their skills to advance through the dungeon all the way to a boss room, picking up items as you go. Your most played adventurer at the end of your playthrough then gives you a True Card, which means in your next playthrough, you'll automatically be able to hire that adventurer without having to unlock them again. That's basically it.
> 
> To make this AU more realistic, the adventurer system is drastically changed. As you might've already noticed, I've been explaining things as we go so no one has to know anything about the difference between the au and Recettear is. My explanations will continue just like that; this is just a note of warning as we really start exploring the adventure system in this installment.
> 
> Happy reading!

Harry feels _very_ smug right now.

Logically speaking, his prior profession should render the experience rather bland. What can compare to fighting for his life, overcoming a dangerous dungeon and coming home with bags of loot? It sounds like something an adventurer at heart would say—but Harry’s not an adventurer at heart. He doesn’t really know _what_ he is, but he’s a shopkeeper now, and he throws himself into the role arms wide and heart thumping.

So, when Hedwig’s most expensive equipment piece is bought after sitting in the window for about two weeks straight, Harry is smug. It’s bought by an adventurer he’s seen around the Guild but never really talked to before—probably doesn’t shop at Hedwig’s, but they saw the helmet and just _had_ to have it.

Money bags, the lot of them (not that Harry has the right to talk; he’s got multiple Gringotts accounts under several different names). He can only dream about when Hedwig’s will finally have a customer base like that. Perhaps he should’ve gone into a weapon-armor shop instead? But those are so _boring_. Harry doesn’t want to restrict himself to a life of cold metal and all-nighter fusions.

Well, profit is profit.

Two-hundred-some galleons richer, Harry decides to take a risk and place one of his higher quality bows in the vacant window slot. Weaponry is always a risk to advertise since they’re so specialized, but Harry really wants to sell this bow. It can sell for _at least_ 300 galleons, and 350 average. He’d been feeling experimental and fused it with some of the leftover Ghost Bark, giving it an eye-catching appearance while adding fire resistance and a few abilities.

A splendid success, that. Getting two abilitie _s_ from one fusion is like finding a galleon on the ground. Getting three or more abilities from one fusion is like going to a cherry farm and coming out with a grapefruit. Even for Harry, his rate at _multiple_ abilities from one fusion is just twenty percent, and decreases drastically the more abilities there are. Well, he says ‘just,’ but it’s a rate other alchemists can only dream of.

In the past, he used to feel rather possessive over his creations, but his mindset has changed a lot since then. Now, Harry just feels happy if he can find someone to appreciate them—give them a good home and treat them with respect.

A bow with fire and earth absorption plus recovery is no joke—despite not being an elven bow (quite a waste, Harry mourns, but Hedwig’s wouldn’t be fit to sell that sort of thing anyway), it won’t have to be replaced or repaired, and its power gradually increases in a fire or forest dungeon. He’ll probably get a few probing questions on how he ran across such a rare weapon, but Harry can just smile and redirect them. A shopkeeper who tells his competition how he gets his most valuable wares is a shit one.

That’s why Harry doesn’t hesitate at all to place a white card in front of the bow, detailing a no-nonsense description of its abilities and attributes. He’ll let those speak for itself. No fancy words or meaningless adjectives can tell the story better than the stats themselves.

“Seems you ran into quite the fortune,” Tom says when he walks in. Harry’s been expecting him, actually. Tom always has to restock after an extended quest, and he didn’t the last time he visited.

“What can I say, Lady Luck adores me.”

He tosses a glance at the storefront window. Several archers have already done a double take walking by, but after ogling it, they ultimately didn’t come in. Harry knows better than to let that depress him—those adventurers have an awareness of how deep their pockets can go, and aren’t shameless enough to try and swindle him.

Tom hums, looking pleased even though in context, Harry doesn’t think he has a reason to be. He feels his heart swell. Perhaps it’s a little forward of him to think so, but he can’t help but think Tom’s happy for him. After all, Tom can probably guess how he _really_ got that bow. Sorcerer he is not, but they did both fight Mother Treant together. And…

Harry’s weak to stuff like this. Agh, Merlin, _why_.

“I’d like an order of my usual set,” Tom says next, which is exactly what Harry predicted.

Apparently, he’s not the only prophet in the store, because Colin walks out of the back room right on time with an expandable bag and begins to lay out Tom’s order.

…Harry’s impressed.

“I saw him walk in,” Colin explains.

Tom considers him for a moment. “Not bad.” That sounds suspiciously like praise to Harry’s ears.

Colin beams. “Thank you, sir.”

They exchange coins for potions while Harry’s star—and only—employee reports that he just sent out the next batch of ingredients to their potions supplier, and he’s off to scope out the market as Harry requested this morning. Buy low, sell high!

Harry can’t help but brag a little. “Colin’s learned most of our regulars already,” he tells Tom. “He’s got better at bargaining, too. Sold several of our swords all in a row just the other day.”

“You’re happy,” Tom notes.

“…Is it too obvious?”

Tom smiles, and suddenly Harry feels like he’s being held at a disadvantage.

“I have something that can make you happier.”

Then, before Harry even knows what’s happening, Tom’s pulled out a jar of…something and placed it on the counter. No, it’s not just something; it’s _honey_. Rich and golden like he’s never seen before, raw organic honey with even a honeycomb still floating inside.

Harry _does_ like honey, but Tom’s expression tells him there’s more to it than that. “You want to…sell it?” he guesses.

Tom nods. “It’s for sale.”

Harry squints at him before finally motioning to the jar. He doesn’t know what Tom’s playing at, but if he’s a customer, then… “May I?”

“Please do.”

He opens the lid. Suddenly, a very familiar smell wafts up to his nose. It’s strong, but delightful, like he’s already standing inside the beehive ready to take a swipe. It smells like orange blossoms with a hint of apple and something more mild, like pear, and then there’s a hint of something denser like blueberry. It’s thick and sugary, but with the scent of fresh and wild.

Harry immediately screws the lid back on, eyes glancing around the shop to make sure no one’s noticed.

He knows what this is.

“Where did you get this?!” Harry hisses, leaning across the countertop.

Tom keeps up his pompous little smile. Then he slides over his adventurer card. Harry notes the additional star—Tom’s a two-star adventurer now.

“I had some good fortune of my own on that quest,” he says casually. “But of course, _you_ would know a measly little star can’t compare to _that_.”

…Tom’s right. It would be different if the additional star brought him to ten stars plus, but this is just a two-star. True, Tom’s rate of growth is very respectable at this stage, but with his abilities, two-star is nothing.

On the scale of adventurer stars, one to ten is the normal, everyday adventurer. Hitting double digits is a little better and certainly sets them a cut above the rest, but eleven stars is where advancement truly starts to get difficult. Fifteen-star is the cutoff line between top tier adventurers and the best-of-the-best. There’s only an active hundred or so who can boast they’ve got sixteen stars or more, even less who can be considered household names, and the maximum star count, twenty, is only held by the truly legendary adventurers—Old World Titans for the most part, though they don’t actively adventure anymore.

The Master of Death was recently advanced from nineteen-star to twenty before Harry decided to call it quits. His abilities have always ranked him among the twenty-stars in whatever poll or ranking popped up, but between sixteen and twenty stars, it’s not a matter of strength—advancements like that had political implications as well. It spoke encyclopedias worth of his power that the Master of Death, who no one knew much of anything about, was able to advance from fifteen stars to nineteen.

So, even if he didn’t complete a major quest during that time, his final advancement didn’t necessarily need one. It was the decision of many world leaders—both hidden and not—to grant him twenty stars—legendary status. Harry admits that it probably was the influence, or lack thereof, of Albus, Gellert, and Olympe. The world-saving heroes, all rulers of their own kingdom, have a sphere of influence all their own.

They wouldn’t have needed to speak _for_ him. All they needed to do was not speak _against_ him, and the Master of Death’s accomplishments would carry their full weight in the decision-making process.

From that experience, one could say Harry is extremely well-versed in the pros and cons of the adventurer system. He knows better than anyone in the shop how lucky Tom truly was, because a two-star advancement could never compare to the value of Megaflora Honey. A two-star adventurer shouldn’t even get the chance to s _mell_ Megaflora Honey, never mind own a jar.

Harry breathes. “I’ll give you a hundred forty galleons for it,” he says, starting off strong. Friendship aside, there’s no way Tom doesn’t know how much it’s worth, so he might as well give him a fair price.

“A hundred eighty,” Tom declares.

Harry wants to choke on his spit. _Still_ , Megaflora Honey! Not only is it valuable for alchemy, fusion included…it’s also mouthwateringly delicious! In cooking, for the ingredients whose price tag and taste seem intended for noble houses and royalty, Megaflora Honey definitely ranks among them. Word says it can make stale bread taste like a fresh pastry, turn watered down tea into the gods’ nectar.

Some of that is the classic rumor hyperbole, of course, but there’s an essence of truth to it. It truly is delicious, and…

“A hundred sixty.”

“A hundred seventy.”

Harry slams his hand down on the table. There’s no way he’s paying one hundred and seventy galleons for _twelve ounces_ _of honey_. “A hundred sixty and _a_ _knut_ , you nut!”

Tom appears to consider it for a moment, and then he motions for the jar.

Harry can’t help it. He gasps. No, _nonononono_ …but one hundred and seventy galleons? Overkill! Very reluctantly, he presses his cheek against the cold jar in a bid farewell before sliding it back toward Tom. _Smart financial decisions, Potter. Smart financial decisions. You’re not an adventurer anymore…_

Tom laughs at him. “Oh, darling. You’re too easy. It was a joke; a hundred sixty is fine.”

 _This bastard_ —Harry reserves the right to glare at him. So, he does. “You don’t _joke_ about Megaflora Honey, Tom,” he bites, whispering the honey’s name just in case anyone is eavesdropping. And, because he’s petty, Harry says, “ _Here_. A hundred sixty galleons and _one knut_. Nice doing business with you.”

Considering he’ll be eating some of it, he’s used his own money instead of that in the cash register. Harry sulks and swipes up the jar before Tom can change his mind. He’s been swindled—he knows he’s been swindled.

Tom coughs, probably to muffle his laughter. “I apologize. I didn’t know how much it meant to you. Here, have a gift—” He places an indiscriminate brown paper bag on the counter.

Harry sucks in a breath. Even from where he’s standing, he can feel the warmth radiating off it. One peek inside tells him his guess is correct—bread, four loaves of freshly made bread, right out of the oven. Just from the look and scent he can tell they’re all different flavors. That has to be apple raisin, oh, and that one’s raspberry walnut—

 _Wait a second_.

“You swindler!” Harry accuses, lowering his voice.

Tom smiles. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, darling. This is just a fortunate coincidence—you have honey, I have bread…”

“ _You sold me this honey_!”

“What can I say,” Tom does, in fact, say (completely ignoring Harry’s squawk of indignation). “Lady Luck adores me.”

“Fuck you.”

“Sharing is caring.”

“Well I don’t _feel_ very caring right now,” says Harry, crossing his arms and pouting because _damn it, he should’ve seen this coming_!

Tom sighs. “Guess I’ll just have to take my bread elsewhere, then.”

“I can get bread at any time, Tom. It’s not a rare commodity.”

“Of course, darling. It’s not like I bought this from a certain bakery in Hufflepuff or anything…a certain bakery who is known for their hour-long lines…a certain bakery that closes when Hedwig’s does…a certain bakery that a certain shop owner in Gryffindor happens to like—”

Harry glares. “You _planned_ this.”

“Food tastes the best when you eat it together,” Tom says, lazily leaning on the counter. Just from his smile, Harry knows. Harry _knows_ he knows that he knows, and how dare his stomach betray him because he’s really hungry right now—

He snatches the bread bag. “Watch the shop,” he orders, and marches toward his kitchen without looking back.

Tom is stupid until he’s smart, which is like, all the time. So maybe he’s smart until he’s stupid. Harry is more annoyed with himself for falling for it. Of course Tom would know, and of course Tom could guess that Harry can do it.

Megaflora Honey is a top tier ingredient. It tastes great right out of the jar—it’s honey, how can it not, right?—but there’s actually a proper method to get the best taste out of it, a special preparation, if you will.

The honey Tom’s gotten from his quest is high quality, too. Harry can tell just by the smell. During his year at Beauxbatons as Queen Olympe Maxime’s effective apprentice, he had the privilege of tasting quite a bit of Megaflora Honey. It’s Olympe’s favorite, after all. In her tea, on her toast, on sweets, and good Merlin the _mead_. She didn’t consume it every day, of course—that would simply be too luxurious—but on special days, it was certainly a treat.

Megaflora Honey obviously comes from different species of megaflora, giant flowers found only in Giga Valley. The bees there are also giant; called Giga Bees, they’re the only species that can pollinate the megaflora. Needless to say, Giga Valley is an extremely dangerous place. Harry’s only been there once, and that was enough for him. It’s one of those places where a foreigner would _need_ a guide, else they’re dead, period.

He has a lot of respect for the beekeepers who produce the honey. One can say it could even be considered a way of life for them, living in their tribal society as just another resident of the valley. It was amazing to watch them work; they made traversing the environment an art form. He learned a lot from them, and when it was finally his time to leave, they prepared a gift for him.

Olympe sent him there for the experience under the flag of Francia Kingdom. As Francia’s ruler, there was naturally a good relationship between Francia and the beekeepers, one still maintained well. Their gift to him, an ornate honey dipper, had not only been a show of good will (and courtesy), but also because they had genuinely liked him…or so Harry hopes.

The honey dipper is decorated with handmade carvings of both the flowers and the bees, representing their symbiotic relationship. Ordinary it may seem, the wood used to make it actually came from the Terra Tree, an enormous tree in the center of Giga Valley thought to be its mother and protector.

Its importance to the beekeepers cannot be underestimated—the tree is part of their ceremonies and religious structure, and Harry knows their gift to him is the highest form of compliment. If he ever desires to return, this is basically his ticket to not being killed.

Well, political and cultural matters aside, the honey dipper also makes the special preparation of Megaflora Honey much easier. _And_ , though the jar is small—only twelve ounces—Harry has been taught how to properly use it without being wasteful. He knows how to make it last, so sharing some with Tom isn’t all too big of a deal.

Ah, still, he’s a little annoyed…

“You better enjoy this, _Gaunt_ ,” Harry says, plate clattering against the counter, “Because this is the last taste of _my honey_ you’re going to get.”

Tom smiles and pours the tea. “You’re so good to me.”

“Yeah, better appreciate it.”

“I do,” he assures, breaking character for a moment. “I appreciate you a lot.”

Harry huffs at him and hides his smile behind his toast. The familiar taste hits him all at once, past and present mixing in some surreal melting pot. It’s like he’s a kid again—there’s Olympe’s stuffy castle, the books, the loneliness, the stainless white marble clean like his hands, like he _hasn’t_  just been dissecting all those monsters—

But he’s not in Beauxbatons. He’s not even in Francia. This is Hedwig’s, and there’s Tom.

“This is weird,” Harry says. He’s sure Tom doesn’t know what he means.

“'Weird.'”

Harry pauses. “I don’t know. I think it’s a good-weird.”

Tom hums. “That’s fine, then.”

 _Huh_ , Harry thinks, sneaking a peek at him. Present, past, and future are all a mess, but.

“S’pose so.”

* * *

Out of all the things Harry has come to expect at Hedwig’s General Store, “Trivia Wizard” Horace Slughorn walking through his doors is not one of them.

Well, he’s got a job to do. Harry puts on a bright smile and greets him as any other customer. “What can I do for you, sir?”

Horace smiles back. “A good afternoon to you as well. Might I inquire who the owner of this establishment is?”

Harry isn’t offended. He’s quite sure Horace already knows who he is, but courtesy is courtesy. Sorcerers who specialize in information are very good at what they do—they know how to restrain the knowledge that passes through their lips, giving an illusion of normalcy’s ignorance.

“That would be me. Harry Potter, pleasure to meet you.”

Horace takes his hand and gives it a firm shake. “Horace Slughorn. I’d like to purchase something I believe you have.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, yes, you see…” he leans forward, “Word on the street says you are in possession of some Megaflora Honey.”

Harry’s smile melts off his face just like that. “Those are some well-informed streets you walk, Mr. Slughorn.”

“Oh, from time to time,” Horace says with a wave.

“Unfortunately, the honey is not for sale.”

Horace frowns. “I understand it is not being advertised. However, I believe I can make an offer worth your while.”

Harry allows him to continue. If the man shows even a hint of swindling him, Harry will just say no. Scotia’s Magic Advisor or not, the honey is not a product he’s inclined to sell unless it’s for a highball. Horace isn’t an unreasonable person at heart. As long as Harry doesn’t slight him, there’s no reason to foster a grudge over a failed business transaction.

He rattles off a price. Harry considers it. The Trivia Wizard must be a little desperate.

“A hundred galleons for three ounces,” Harry counter-offers.

He can see Horace’s jaw drop. “That’s highway robbery!” he sputters.

“By all means, I’m open to negotiation. Hedwig’s offers fair prices for all their _advertised_ products, after all.” His point is made. Whether he can make a profit or not on the raw product is not a huge factor to him—Harry has many uses for Megaflora Honey, so he can make the money back with a bit of time and effort.

Besides, the only kingdom who has a good deal on Megaflora Honey is Francia. Giga Valley is an autonomous region under their protection. Any other kingdom has to import the honey, and the price skyrockets because of that.

A crease gradually forms on Horace’s forehead. “Well…this is not public information, you know, but I am here on behalf of the king—”

 _He’s trying to throw around his weight here?_ Harry thinks with a scoff. It’s a classic Slughorn move, of course. The only thing it succeeds to do is tell Harry that the Trivia Wizard doesn’t know who he is—not that Harry thought he would; his identity is in good hands, and though they’re friends, Horace is certainly not Albus’ _bosom_ friend.

“Is that so? Well, I would not mind negotiating with His Majesty, either.”

Horace wilts. “Sixty galleons for three ounces,” he says.

“Eighty.”

Horace inhales. “Young man, that is far too unreasonable.”

Harry smiles. “I beg your pardon, Advisor Slughorn, but I believe it is very reasonable. Eighty galleons for three ounces of _prepared_ Megaflora Honey is as low as I’m willing to go.”

The stressed word makes Horace pause. “Prepared, you say? _Specially prepared_?”

“I do swear on my shop it is.”

“…I mean no offense, but may I…”

Harry nods obligingly. “But of course. One moment.” He leaves the counter and returns with a 3 oz. container of honey.

Trivia Wizard knows his stuff. Much like Harry, he only requires a sniff before he knows Harry’s words are true. The nuanced changes to the honey’s scent are obvious to a connoisseur.

The deal looks as if it pains him, but Horace still says, “Deal. Eighty galleons for three ounces.”

Harry smiles. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“So it is, so it is. Though, I must wonder how you came across such an ingredient…”

Harry’s thought process is quick and immediate. Tom obviously has some relation to Horace, so it couldn’t hurt putting in a good word, yes? Obviously, Slughorn won’t be expecting Tom to come by some more honey like ever, but it’s a good showcase of his fortune and ability, putting him in a favorable light.

“Oh, I can’t take all the credit,” Harry hears himself say, “I’m just the shop owner, you know. My adventurer came by it—Tom’s such a sweetheart; he knew I would be interested, so he sold it to me before anything else.”

“Tom?” Horace’s eyebrow raises to the sky. It’s a common name, he must be thinking, perhaps familiar.

“Thomas Gaunt,” explains Harry, happily dumb. “He’s a relatively new adventurer, all things said, but I couldn’t run the shop without him, truly. Perhaps you’ve heard of him? Or perhaps not, forgive me for being so forward. I just think he’s one with potential, you know—luck and skill, potential.”

The Trivia Wizard is like a niffler, if there ever was a niffler obsessed with powerful connections instead of shiny things.

“Sounds like a...fine lad. I’ll keep an ear out for him, then,” says Horace. Then he makes his farewells and leaves in a stodgy hustle.

Harry hums a small little tune to himself. He doesn’t know much about Tom’s adventuring history, but if he’s a Scotian adventurer now, then it wouldn’t hurt to have some memory or reputation with the Trivia Wizard. Who knows when it’ll come in handy…

Though, Horace Slughorn never works for free, and galleons are rather lacking the higher up one goes. To put that into perspective, Ghost Bark is nothing to that old man. Megaflora Honey, only a little interesting.

Bargaining chips, huh. _I should keep that in mind…_

**Author's Note:**

> This installment is even funnier when you remember who probably got Dumbledore all the dirt he had on Tom in _not your average virtue_.
> 
> Anyway sorry about all the worldbuilding but we're getting to the good stuff now, and that needs a little explanation so y'all can be properly impressed. dw we get BAMF Harry next installment, with a sprinkle of Harry PoV & Tom PoV (it's gonna be a multipart-er).
> 
> I think the major points of foreshadowing are pretty clear. If you have any questions/clarifications to ask about the worldbuilding/skills, please do ask. I'm not 100% on if I phrased everything in a comprehensive manner. 
> 
>  
> 
> ...Also, okay, so I don't know if any of you know anything about the honey industry in the US, but it's a wild ride (depressing wild ride...save the bees!!!). After a little bit of googling I ordered some honey from Savannah Bee Company for the holidays and that shit is delicious. 10/10 would recommend. I'm on the west coast though so it was really expensive....gotta find a local producer after I finish my Wildflower & Orange Blossom jars. (I love orange blossom as a flavor so much.)
> 
> Okay this installment's personal blurb over.


End file.
